


Bless the Damned

by brave_muffin (orphan_account)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Magic, Multi, this world is basically the same as ours just with no technology, you say love triangle? I say ot3: the fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-03-27 00:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13869288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/brave_muffin
Summary: It all starts when Mukuro dies. Then it snowballs. Suddenly Sonia is running away from home, alone apart from the voice inside her head; Fuyuhiko is contracted to a demon; Kyouko is trying to solve an abundance of mysteries, all leading back to one individual in particular; Leon is traveling the world with some sirens to find an item important to him and Hajime just wants to not almost die this week.While everyone is dealing with their own problems, someone is trying to, simply put, destroy Danconeon, the world they all live in. Someone needs to stop them. Not my problem, Fuyuhiko says. (Spoiler: it absolutely is his problem).





	1. A New Day

With her older sister's dead body sprawled out beside her and the sun setting before her, Junko thought life was going quite good.

The last thing her sister had said flashed through her mind.

_Don't you love anyone, Junko? Anyone at all?_

"Of course, I do," Junko told her corpse. She reached out a perfectly manicured hand and pushed some hair back from her dead sister's face. The strands were sticky with blood and had clumped together. It left a red streak on her fingertips. Junko frowned and started to rub the stain away with her opposite hand. "I love you, don't I? Loved. Loved?" She left the blood on her hand in favour of tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Do I have to say it in past tense if you're dead now?" Junko looked at her sister's corpse expectantly. Her sister's right eye was the only thing that wasn't torn apart. It sat a few metres away from the rest of her body. It was looking at Junko. Junko flipped it off.

The body had been there for a couple of days. The skin was clammy and honestly, gross. The blood had dried onto the ground, the colour almost brown in the remaining light. Junko grimaced at the sight of it. She would move the corpse but it seemed like more effort than she was willing to put in.

"Well, anyway," Junko exclaimed, jumping to her feet suddenly, grabbing the knife that lay on the ground beside her, the blade coated with the blood of her dead sister. She flipped it so she was gripping the blade, the sharp edge digging into the soft flesh of her palm. "This has been great but you know me, busy gal and whatnot." She made a gesture as though to say _what can you do?_ "So, I'll just make my way back home, maybe pick up some dinner. Do you want pizza? Come on, I know you want pi-" Junko froze. Her head slowly tilted to the left. She blinked slowly. Nodded.

With a steady hand, she lifted the knife from her side to her face. Positioned it on the left corner of her mouth. Waited.

Time stood still. Junko's right hand hung at her side, her fingers loose. The blood that had pooled underneath her dead sister stayed brown, cold against the last remaining rays of sunlight as the sun disappeared over the horizon. Junko's left hand was stationary, her fingers tight around the handle of the blade. A trickle of blood trailed along the flat edge of the knife from where Junko had pushed too hard with the knife.

Everything was quiet. For a moment, it seemed as though Junko would simply stand there forever. But then time caught up and with a swift flick, the blade curved a line upwards through Junko's left cheek, bloody spurting out immediately, the sound of flesh being torn filling the mouth of the cave, all the nerves that once lived in Junko's flesh being cut out.

The eye sat alone on the damp ground. It saw Junko mutilate herself. It saw her collapse to the ground, her hand dropping the knife in favour of clutching the remains of her face, her mouth filling with blood. It saw how Junko caught any sounds of anguish in her throat, sweat beading on her brow from the effort of it all. It saw her stand up on unsteady feet and start to head further into the cave before she stopped. Turning towards the eye, Junko let fury contort her features, looking even more monstrous due to her being covered in blood, her cheek loose with the flesh, stringy and gory. The last thing the eye saw was the bottom of Junko's boot. Then it saw no more.

 

//

 

"Ok, this is the third time this month, I'm getting sick of this. Are you sure you're a lucky spirit?"

Nagito smiled, one golden hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. "I am a lucky spirit but I suppose I am a trash one. I'm sorry, Hajime, this is all my fault." He let his head drop forward in a show of apology, his hands clasped behind his back.

Hajime sighed, sinking back into the soft pillows of his cot. He'd moved too suddenly and his neck twisted, shooting pain through him and he winced. In fact, his entire body hurt, every joint was stiff, every limb was covered with bruises and Hajime wouldn't be surprised if he had broken at least a couple of bones. It certainly felt as though he had.

"Hajime?"

He looked up. There she was. Short and sweet, her hair pale and her skin paler, she stood with her hands lightly gripping her backpack straps. He'd once asked her why she carried a bag with her, considering she didn't need it. She'd shrugged, a hand reaching up to rub her eye in an action that almost seemed sleepy if not for the fact that Hajime didn't think she slept. Ever. _I think it's cute, don't you?_ Hajime had only stuttered out a _yeah, I-I think it's cute_ , his face feeling warmer than it had only a few moments ago. Now, though, Hajime only looked at her dumbly, wondering distantly if his injuries were making him slow or if it was the potion Tsumiki had forced him to swallow the second he'd arrived at her doorstep.

She smiled at him and Hajime was struck with the sensation of falling. "You aren't going to die, Hajime. Komaeda's luck may get you into these situations but it also gets you out of them."  With one hand she reached out and patted Nagito on the shoulder, making him look at her briefly, marigold eyes shining. Then, she stretched out her other hand and brushed the back of Hajime's wrist. It sent a shock up through his veins and for a moment he forgot about all the pain he was feeling. "But, considering you aren't dying, that means I need to go." She squeezed both her hands gently before letting go of the both of them. "Stay out of trouble, you two," she said, her rosy eyes sparkling with humour, and disappeared, leaving behind a thin vapour of black smoke.

The room fell silent and Hajime closed his eyes, breathing out heavily through his nose. Nagito didn't say anything but Hajime could only stand a few minutes of the quiet before he cracked. "It's not your fault, Nagito, it's just-" He tried to make a gesture with his right hand but regretted it quickly, and lay it back on the bed with a groan. "- It's just bad luck." He opened his eyes and saw Nagito still standing at the foot of his bed, his mouth opened as though ready to say something self-deprecating against himself. "Just," Hajime murmured before he could start, "Just sit down. You're making me nervous."

Nagito obliged, perching on the side of the bed by Hajime's hip. Hajime closed his eyes again and tried to sleep until he could at least breathe without his ribs creaking in protest.

"Your life is so messed up, bro," Kazuichi said, sitting stretched out in a wooden stool by Hajime's bed, various metal parts sat on cloth laid out on his lap, forgotten in favour of watching the scene before him.

"Shut up, Kaz," Hajime replied, without opening his eyes. Nagito snorted and Hajime felt himself smile. He decided to blame it on the potion. He knew he was lying.

 

//

 

Sonia decided that the worst thing in the world was boredom. When she was younger she had decided it was death because isn't that just _tragic_? All these things to do in the world and you would never be able to them because your body was buried six feet into the ground? But, at this age, Sonia realised that at least when you were dead, you knew you wouldn't be able to do those things but when you were bored, you knew you could do this things but you just aren't. Or, in her case, you weren't allowed.

She was being too callous, disrespectful towards the dead, not at all princess like but Sonia couldn't find it within herself to care.

_Your wallowing is distracting me from my work._

Sonia felt a smile turn up the corners of her lips. "I'm sorry, it's just," she looked around her bedroom, her bed neatly made, all her shelves filled with books she'd read once, twice, thrice, "There's nothing to do here." She sat up on her window seat and looked out at the sky that stretched far above her, impossibly blue and filled with possibilities. "What are you doing?" she asked, desperate for something, anything to interest her and ease her boredom.

A hearty chuckle sounded through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine, making her grin. _Nothing interesting, I assure you_.

She pouted and let her head fall back, bumping it lightly against the wall by her window. "Come on," she whined playfully. "I'm bored. Amuse me."

Nothing.

She sat up and furrowed her brows. "Hello? Oh, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. Are you still there?"

Nothing.

Sonia sighed sadly, standing up from her window seat and dragging herself towards her bed and flopping herself backwards onto it. The sheets were soft and the mattress was perfectly bouncy but she continued to frown at the ceiling. "Please, come back," she whispered.

Nothing.

She turned onto her side, rumpling her sheets, something her mother would probably reprimand her for later. The thought of her parents made her wince. Not that she didn't love them. She did but she thought they were terribly overbearing. And they didn't give her any responsibility, despite her being the crowned princess. Sonia sighed again but hauled herself up and started towards her bookshelf. There was surely a book in there that she could read once more, one that she didn't remember the entire plot of.

_Sorry, I was detained there for a moment. I'm sure you haven't died of boredom in my absence._

Sonia grinned, letting a joyful laugh bubble out of her. She heard the voice laugh along with her, the sound making her feel warm. "No, I'm quite alive. Where were you?"

Walking back to her window seat, Sonia sat and listened to the voice in her head, happy for the time being. But, it wouldn't last. It never did.

 

//

 

"I'm not saying something's wrong but, well, something's blatantly wrong."

Kyouko hummed in agreement. Makoto twisted around to look at her. "Do you know what's wrong?"

She didn't look up. "If I did, I would've already told you. Also, focus on what you're doing, you're going to fall."

Makoto turned back and resumed pushing books back into their place. He was high up on a sliding ladder in the Woodgrove Library where he worked, Kyouko somewhere behind him, sat on a lightly coloured chair. He quickly climbed down and grabbed a couple more books from the pile that sat by Kyouko's arm. Her eyes flickered towards him. "But, you have an idea about what's wrong, don't you?" he asked. He didn't move until Kyouko nodded, a gloved hand reaching up to push her hair back from her shoulders.

Clambering back up the ladder, he heard her reply. "I do have an idea, but I've been wrong before -" ("Like, once," Makoto muttered.) "- And I didn’t want to worry you."

"I'm worrying anyway," Makoto pointed out, turning to physically point a book titled the Advantages of Healthy Living at her. She smiled in response, a quick quirk of her lips which had Makoto's heart thumping harder in his chest. He turned back towards the shelf so she couldn't see the light flush spreading across his cheeks but if her quiet laugh sounding from the table just below him was any clue, she had seen it anyway.

Clearing his throat, Makoto finished what he was doing and climbed back down the ladder. He walked over to Kyouko and sat next to her, resting his forearms on the table. "Have you finished all your cases?"

Her smile faded but her face still looked soft in the mid afternoon sun coming in through the large windows. "No, there's still a few open," she answered, honestly. Her fingers tapped on the closed cover of a file in front of her. Across the front in dark red was two words, MUKURO ENOSHIMA.

"The missing person's case?" Makoto clarified. Kyouko nodded, a furrow between her brows. "Well, it's possible she could've just left, right? Like you said," Makoto suggested.

"That's what I thought initially, but I talked to her sister recently and she says that her other sister, Junko has also gone missing," Kyouko raised a hand and thumbed her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"What do you think it means? That someone's kidnapping all the Enoshima sisters?"

"Or worse," Kyouko murmured, her expression dark. Makoto looked away, towards the large double doors of the library. He felt her hand on his arm and looked over to see Kyouko leaning forward, her expression light once more. "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Makoto shook his head fervently, "No, no, it wasn't that, I was just thinking, y'know, it's sad that she's losing all her loved ones. I would hate for that happen to me, is all."

Kyouko smiled at him. She opened her mouth to say something but a sudden noise outside captured their attention. The sound of horses and a carriage.

"He's here," Makoto said. He stood up and offered a hand to Kyouko who took it. "Let's go and see what's wrong."

 

//

 

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, rune drawing extrordinaire, eldest to the Kuzuryu clan, winner of the Cutest Smile of the Year Award three years running, was tired. Completely, absolutely, utterly tired.

Crouched on all fours, he drew runes all over the dark floor of some abandoned cottage. How his father had managed to find this place, he didn't know and he didn't want to ask.

"Are you done yet?"

Fuyuhiko felt his hand clench around the chalk he was drawing with. He forced his hand to relax and continued drawing. "No, surprisingly, it takes a while to draw a bloody demon altar," he said.

"Watch your tone," the voice behind him snapped. Fuyuhiko closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing lest he lose his patience and do something he wasn't supposed to, like throw his chalk at someone or just punch them. Electing to ignore them, he resumed his drawing.

He'd been at it for an hour and only half of the room was done, the ground showing a white circle, stark against the black floor, with one side filled with various markings whilst the other remained empty. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Fuyuhiko reached over and grabbed the large volume he was taking all the runes from and flipped through the pages before landing on what he was looking for. He sighed to himself and got back to work.

After another hour it was done. Standing back to appraise what he'd done, Fuyuhiko couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest. His father wouldn't praise him but Fuyuhiko had decided a long time ago that he didn't care about that kind of shit. He knew he'd done well and that's all that mattered.

His father swept in, his black cape billowing out behind him, his white suit spotless, the red pendant pinned on his breast seemed to wink at Fuyuhiko. "Let's begin," his father said and so everyone gathered around the circle Fuyuhiko had drawn.

"Don't step on the circle or in it," Fuyuhiko warned.

"I know how demon altars work, boy," someone spat from across the room. Fuyuhiko bared his teeth and almost reached for the gun tucked into the back of his trousers before he thought better of it. Even if he did shoot the face off that bastard, they would continue with the summoning but this time there would be blood in the altar. Sure, sheep blood covered the heart that sat in the basket in the middle as a sacrifice but that was animal blood. Human blood and demons should never mix, Fuyuhiko was smart enough to at least know that.

Forcing his arm down, Fuyuhiko clenched his teeth and listened to his father begin the incantation.

It seemed to go on forever, the air in the cottage becoming stifling, catching in Fuyuhiko's throat. But then it suddenly stopped. It was as if one moment Fuyuhiko was listening to his father's voice droning on in Latin, and then, the next all he could hear was the loud roar of blood in his ears and he was lying flat on his back.

Raising a hand, Fuyuhiko pressed it against his temple and it came away covered in blood. _Fuck_ , he thought to himself, pushing himself up to his knees. Everything was red. Fuyuhiko couldn't tell if that was just his sight or if everything in the room was actually red. He looked around. All the men who had once stood around the altar were now sprawled on their backs that same as Fuyuhiko had. Some of them were in the circle but they seemed fine, all of their body parts intact. Fuyuhiko frowned in confusion, trying to figure out why the demon hadn't torn them to shreds but thinking caused a sharp pain to shoot into his skull and blacken his vision around the edges. Shaking his head to try and focus was a mistake and Fuyuhiko jerked forwards, his hands shooting out to catch him. Groaning low in his throat he pushed himself up again and tried to crawl towards the door, skirting around the edges of the circle just in case.

Raw panic seized in his throat when he felt a hand grip his ankle and yank him back. Flipping around, Fuyuhiko came face to face with his father. "What did you do?" his father bellowed.

Fuyuhiko blinked up at him, wanting to open his mouth and shout back, and perhaps call him something with as much cuss words as he could physically fit into a sentence, but his head was pounding and his mouth felt so dry he could only wonder if it had ever been wet.

Fuyuhiko could only watch as his father reeled a fist back and, with his other hand gripping the collar of Fuyuhiko's shirt, swung forward, his knuckles banging right into his face, shocking him back into physical awareness if only to feel the agony now pulsing through his jaw. The impact sent Fuyuhiko's head lurching to the right and he saw with widened eyes, a few drops of blood spray from his now busted lip and fly right towards the demon altar. On reflex, he shot a hand out to try and catch the blood but all he could was watch as the crimson drops landed right on one of the inner runes. To make matters worse, his hand fell down to the ground, his thumb catching on the outline of the outer circle, and smudging right through the line he'd drawn there only a couple of hours before.

 _Fuck_ , Fuyuhiko thought to himself once more, and passed out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thanks for reading this and if you have any questions or just want to yell at me (please dont be gentle) my tumblr is bravemccalll. I'll probably post extra bits on there about this fic, either things that have been deleted or just generally complain, loudly and frequently  
> :D until next time  
> \- nic


	2. All Adventure's Have A Beginning

"I'm just saying, dude. You need to get rid of this "lucky spirit" before it gets you killed."

Hajime simply shook his head, ignoring how his neck creaked in protest. "I told you what she said, Kaz. His luck might get me into these situations but it does also get me out of them." Kazuichi looked at him in disbelief. Hajime raised an eyebrow and he looked away with a sigh. Triumphant, Hajime lifted his cup of beer - Kazuichi's method of forgetting his pain, Hajime wasn't entirely sure it was entirely orthodox - and spilled half of it on his lap. He didn't even blink. Kazuichi snorted from across their little table.

A _sorry!_ came from across the pub. Hajime looked over and saw Nagito smiling apologetically at him. Hajime tried not to stare and failed. It wasn't really his fault, Nagito would certainly catch the eye of everyone in the room if they could actually see him. With golden skin that seemed to glow when direct sunlight hit it, marigold coloured eyes that were usually unnervingly focused on something, Nagito Komaeda did look like how you would expect a lucky spirit to look. The only things about him that weren't ethereal was what he wore - white cloth that tied his left shoulder and draped down and around until his mid-thigh - and his hair - pale and fluffy, it seemed to bounce along with all of his movements. On his wrists were silver bracelets, bright things with small red gems on them. Once Hajime had asked about them, late into the night when he couldn't sleep, and Nagito had smiled, his teeth a shock of white in the darkness, and told him how they channelled his power, focused it onto a single being instead of onto every single person on Danconeon. _Does every lucky spirit have them?_ His smile turned into a feral grin. _No. Only me._

"Hajime. Hajime!"

Hajime blinked and turned back to Kazuichi. He had a shit eating grin on his face, and Hajime felt a flush spread across his face. "Shut up, Kaz," he said, hiding his face by taking a long drag from his mug. When he sat it down again, Kazuichi was still looking at him, his mouth open as though ready to make some joke at his expense. Hajime scrambled to change the subject. "When did Mahiru say she was getting here?"

Kazuichi rubbed his chin while he thought and Hajime allowed himself a small victory of successfully distracting him. "She said she'd come sometime after lunch but-" he looked around the tavern, "- she isn't here."

Hajime nodded, his brows furrowing together. He glanced around as well. The tavern they were in was called The Holy Mole, which was situated in the middle of May, the town Hajime and Kazuichi lived in. The inside of the tavern, though small and often times loud, was familiar and warm to Hajime, seeing as he would meet up with Kazuichi there most days. The man who ran the place, someone called Teruteru or something, was very odd in Hajime's opinion so he never ordered any drinks from him directly but rather from the bartender, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, who was also a _little_ odd but Hajime would rather deal with his loud shouting than Teruteru's suggestive comments, complete with ridiculous eyebrow wriggles.

"Maybe she got held up at work, or something?" Hajime suggested. Mahiru worked outside of May, in some neighbouring town, in a different tavern, The Snake's Eye. Mahiru would always complain about the distance she had to walk to work and Kazuichi would always ask her why she didn't work in The Holy Mole. Her response was the same every time. "You'd use up my monthly discount. Or just ask for free drinks all the time." It always made Hajime laugh whilst Kazuichi pouted.

"Maybe," Kazuichi said, nervously tapping his fingers on the side of his mug.

An hour passed with Kazuichi and Hajime sitting at their little table in the corner of the tavern, both of them growing increasingly nervous at the absence of their friend. When they heard the bell tower chime four o'clock somewhere in the distance, Hajime stood, dropping a handful of ravels onto the table to pay for their drinks. "Come on," he said to Kazuichi and Nagito, who had been drifting around the bar, watching the customers with interest. "Mahiru's never this late, something's up." Grabbing his dark coat, throwing it on roughly and hastily buttoning up, Hajime headed for the exit of the bar.

The summer air greeted Hajime, warm and stifling all at once. He had a bad feeling, a sick sensation that churned in his stomach and raised his hackles, making him want to run as fast as he could, away from what was causing this emotion. He turned to see Kazuichi close the door behind them, his navy overalls covered in dirt and oil. There was a dark smudge on his cheek but he didn't seem to notice, his hair long and dark, the strands short in certain places and getting into his eyes. But Hajime ignored him in favour of turning to Nagito, who had seemed to simply faze through the wall of the tavern. "Nagito, can you look for Mahiru as well? I feel like we could cover more ground if we had you out there too," he said. Nagito simply nodded and with a small smile, vanished in a puft of yellow smoke. Turning to Kazuichi, he gestured with his hand and they started to walk down the road, peering down alleys and in the windows of small shops. Hajime's legs were already starting to throb, he remembered dimly that Tsumiki told him not to exercise more than strictly necessary and she definitely wouldn't approve of him walking for long stretches of time, even if it was in search of a close friend.

They were hiking up one hill, just a few streets away from The Holy Mole, Hajime's right leg had went from a dull ache to an agonising pain, causing sweat to bead on his brow, which he wiped away quickly, when Nagito appeared. His skin wasn't glowing anymore, it seemed fainter, not more otherworldly than anything else Hajime had seen. "Did you find her? Where is she?" Hajime asked, his breath harried, almost a pant and he hated how just walking for half an hour had forced all the air out of lungs. Kazuichi shuffled his boots beside him, and Hajime didn't need to look over to know that he was staring at Hajime, whether it was in confusion or with expectation was anyone's guess.

Nagito, though, wasn't looking at Hajime, but rather at his own bare feet, which hovered a few feet off the ground. "The woman, a physician. Dark hair, skittish. Mahiru's there."

Hajime felt himself pale. Tsumiki's cottage. _Why on Danconeon would Mahiru be there?_ "Why?" he asked Nagito, "Is she ok?" Nagito only shook his head sheepishly, his hair curling forward to hide his expression from Hajime.

Kazuichi reached out and gripped Hajime's arm. "What's he saying? Where's Mahiru?"

"Tsumiki's cottage," Hajime said, turning to face Kazuichi just in time to see his face fall, his expression scared. His mouth opened as though he wanted to say more but Hajime turned and started running straight for where Mahiru was. His joints screamed in protest, his right leg twinging each time his foot slammed into the ground. Each step felt like torture but he forced himself forward. He could hear Kazuichi running beside him but he didn't hazard a glance. His luck was usually bad and he didn't want to test fate and end up running right into a moving carriage. The sun disappeared about halfway to Tsumiki's residence, the sky turning dark with inky clouds that let loose a storm, rain falling in large droplets that seemed to rattle Hajime's bones every time one landed on him. Soon, it became a downpour, entire sheets of water that soaked Hajime all the way through despite his thick, woolly coat and turned the ground beneath him to a muddy sludge that had him slipping every second step. Somehow he managed to stay upright and if he had the time he'd thank Nagito for that single bout of good luck but he was too focused on Mahiru.

After what seemed like years he arrived at Tsumiki's cottage. He knocked on the door desperately. Looking over, Hajime saw Kazuichi standing just as wet as Hajime, his hair plastered to his face, his boots shiny, but his overalls dark from the rain. When the door opened, Hajime spun around and saw Tsumiki peering out, her dark eyes blinking up at him nervously. "Tsumiki, is Mahiru here? Is she ok?"

Tsumiki glanced between the two of them before she opened the door wider and gestured for them to get inside with an unsteady hand, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she closed the door after them.

Hajime almost felt his legs give out beneath him. Mahiru lay out on a cot, her hair red and splayed out on the pillow beneath her head. She seemed to be sleeping, her expression almost serene, her hands laid out beside her. He felt relief flood through his entire body - she was alright, Mahiru was ok - but he felt like he'd been shocked by lightening when he saw the cot next to her. Someone was obviously lying there as well but there was a white sheet that was covering their entire body.

Distantly, Hajime could hear Tsumiki explaining in a shaky voice, something about Mahiru and Hiyoko getting caught up in a fight between a warlock and some other magical creature but all he could focus on was the white sheet. The body underneath it was tiny. he thought dimly. It almost looked like a child.

"I'm sorry, Hajime." Turning to his left he saw her - her hair a pale rose colour, her eyes shining and sad, sympathetic. She stood beside him, reaching a hand out to him. "I'm sorry," she repeated and Hajime believed her. Even though he knew it was her job, he knew somewhere deep down that she hated this, hated having to collect the souls of the dead, see all those who were mourning them. He wanted to tell her that it was ok but the words got caught in his throat, he could feel himself choking on them. She looked like she already knew, though, her hand landing on his arm even though he knew he was damp all over.

Hajime supposed it was a miracle in itself that he'd managed to make it all the way to Mahiru in the first place. When he fell forward on his knees, twisting at the last minute so he'd at least land on his back and not just face plant, the last thing he saw before it was all dark was the rosy colour of her hair and a flash of golden skin.

 

//

 

When he woke up, Fuyuhiko became aware of a few things. 1. Nothing was going to be the same as it was. 2. His face hurt something terrible and 3. He was being carried by someone.

Opening his eyes to the bright sun, Fuyuhiko felt his head throb at intense light that seemed to hit him all at once. Shutting his eyes with a groan, it took a few more seconds for him to gather his thoughts. The arms underneath him felt strong, they didn't tense up from the weight of him, it was as though he didn't weigh anything. He could feel something pressed against his right side, he assumed it was this person's torso. He was swaying from every step they took, a slight action that almost had him lulled back to sleep before all of his consciousness snapped to one piece in his mind.

His eyes flew open and he jammed his elbow to the right, feeling his arm make contact with the middle of their chest. Their arms loosened around him and he quickly rolled to the left, gasping silently as he slammed onto the ground, his bones seeming to rattle inside him for a moment, his chest aching as though it was bruised. Shoving his pain to the side for the moment, Fuyuhiko quickly jumped to his feet, yanking his gun out from the back of his breeches and pointing it at whoever had been carrying him.

He almost dropped his gun but managed to grip it tighter. Standing before him was a woman. Tall, taller than him almost certainly, with grey hair that fluttered slightly in the wind, and pale skin that seemed almost pure white. She wore a skin tight leotard, bright blue and shining in the sunlight, with light gems studded all over it. Her feet were bare and dirtied from the dusty road they were on. Red eyes regarded him almost him curiously but cautiously, as though he was a loose cannon. The thought annoyed him and had him levelling the gun so it pointed right at the woman's face.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded.

She only tilted her head slightly, her expression never changing. "I have no identity," she said, her eyes flickering to his gun, looking interested for a second before her face became a blank slate once more.

"Bullshit," he scoffed. "Everyone has an identity." She continued to stare at him. "What are you, a circus freak or sumit?"

She looked down at what she was wearing, a long finger coming up to pick at one of the gems on her sleeve. "Is that what I'm wearing? Interesting," she said, almost to herself.

Fuyuhiko wondered briefly about who he had angered in a past life to deserve what was happening to him. Lowering his gun, the thought of shooting a woman left a bad taste in his mouth although he supposed that could just be his blood, he gestured with his free hand at the road that was behind her. "Look, you're crazy and I don't have time to deal with this. So, why don't we just go our separate ways, yeah?"

"No."

Fuyuhiko blinked at her. "No? What the fuck do you mean 'no'?"

"I can't leave you," she said, her stare intense and all-consuming. Fuyuhiko looked away quickly, his jaw throbbing. He pressed his hand against it for a second before yanking his hand away as the pain flared. He elected to ignore his apparent injuries.

"Look, I don't have time to deal with this, ok? My father's going to kill me as it is, there was this whole summoning thing and -" He froze.

He remembered it all - the demon altar, waking up flat on his back, his father blaming him for everything that went wrong, his father's fist, the blood flying towards the circle, his thumb rubbing away the outer circle. He thought back to everything he knew about demons, the deals they made, how they were summoned. What happened if your blood fell into their altar.

"Oh no," he mumbled, his hands reaching up to press at his temples, his guns pushing uncomfortably into his cheek. "No, no, no. My blood, the altar. You're-?" He pointed a shaky finger at her. She simply nodded, her brows furrowed together, looking almost worried as she stepped forward, one hand reaching out as though to touch him. He swatted it away, his mind sparing a moment to marvel at how he just hit a creature that could easily kill him if it so wished but he was too busy freaking about how he was contracted to an actual demon.

_Calm down._

Fuyuhiko jolted back. It felt like there was another presence in his brain, like someone else had taken up residence in his skull,if temporarily. He looked up and saw her, watching him carefully. "Did you do that?" he asked. She nodded. "Don't - don't ever do that again. The only person I want up here- " he pressed a finger to his temple, "-is me, got it?" She nodded again. He couldn't get a read on her, she seemed to answer all his questions honestly and quickly. It was like she wasn't really a person, though Fuyuhiko supposed she wasn't. But god, even demons had personalities, right? He pushed that thought to the side. It would only lead down a rabbit hole of questions of person-hood and he didn’t have the time for anything like that.

He squinted at her. He remembered his father, poised above him, his fist reeled back. He remembered all the other men in the room, their bodies laid out around the small room. He didn't know where he was, and the last thing he could recall was passing out after his father's first punch. "Why are we out here? What happened back in the cottage?" His lack of knowledge annoyed him, dug under his skin.

"You were in danger," she said. "I took you away from the danger."

She was peering at him, dark eyebrows furrowing together as though willing him to understand her simple truths. "No," Fuyuhiko said, one hand waving in front of him, as though to physically dismiss what she had just said. "No, what happened back at the cottage?"

She finally looked away from him, her eyes seeking out the horizon to her left. "You were in danger," she repeated, stubbornly. Fuyuhiko felt his annoyance spike, opening his mouth to ask his question again but she continued to speak. "When I was summoned, I arrived in a room filled with men, all strewn around the room. There was no anti cloaking rune, so I covered myself to the human eye-" ( _Anti-cloaking rune_ , Fuyuhiko thought, _Iactis, I knew I had forgotten something._ ) "- Then you got up. And I watched you try to crawl away, and then I saw another man grab you. He punched you and I didn't care at first." She turned to face him again, her face still blank but her eyes glowing as though she couldn't convey the vastness of her feelings. It made him feel hollow. "Then your blood landed in my altar. It forged a contract. And suddenly I wanted to rip that man apart for hurting you. And I saw his hand go back again, repeating his previous action. You were unconscious and yet he was still going to-" She broke off, staring down at her feet. "They're all dead," she murmured. "I lost control, got caught up in my own rage."

Fuyuhiko stared at her. He tried to picture it; his father, dead. All of his henchmen, deceased. Not that his father had ever truly cared for him, an emotion that Fuyuhiko had felt in return for the man, but for him to just be… gone. He shoved it to the back of his mind, trying to focus on something, anything else. His mind landed on her, how she'd protected him, though in a very violent manner. It was the only thing someone had done for his sake in years. He shook his head, hissing as it made his head pound harder. He didn't have time to pity himself or feel touched. He just had to break the contract between them and be done with it. "Listen," he paused for a second as she returned her gaze to him, her face passive, her eyes empty once more, "Follow me or not, I don't care. I'm going home and I'm going to find a way to get rid of you."

He brushed past her, walking back the way they had come, assuming that she had come from the cottage they'd been in, which was near to his house. "And change your clothes. You look ridiculous."

He thought he heard her laugh but when he glanced over his shoulder at her, she simply walking behind him, eyes staring down at her outfit. "I don't know what else to wear," she told him.

He sighed. "I'll find you something when we get to my house." He told himself he didn't care if this made her happy. He just continued to stare at the horizon, the sun high in the sky and beating down on him, the demon walking behind him, her feet silent despite every step she took.

 

//

 

Sonia sat silently, her parent's dull chat droning on around her. She pressed the pad of her thumb into the handle of her fork, watching the skin whiten from the pressure. She sighed in defeat and laid the utensil back on the table.

She knew it was no use trying to listen to what her parents were saying. They spoke in code around her, every word having a different meaning, every sentence a mirror which had a reflection only they could understand. Their conversations were meant for themselves alone, no one else. Sonia had gotten sick of it years ago.

_Have you tried talking to them?_

Sonia opened her mouth to answer but quickly shut it. She didn't want her parents to know about the voice. It was her own secret, one of the few things that she could say was truly hers.

The first time the voice had appeared was when she was thirteen. After a nightmare she'd had, fire burning up her sheets, her curtains, her skin, it had appeared, calming her down, lulling her back to sleep. She'd thought it was just a dream, putting it down as pure fantasy, but a few days later it was there again, asking her what human dogs needed to eat. She hadn't known, as she'd never had a dog herself, but she had locked herself in the library, poring over big volumes dedicated to all kinds of dogs. They'd talked all night like that, Sonia hunched over a book, the voice keeping her company with its constant questions and observations. It was clear that the voice wasn't human but whenever Sonia tried to ask it anything about itself it quietened down and disappeared for days until it came back with another query.

Seven years later and Sonia was still the same as she'd always been; stuck in her castle, her parents never including her in anything important, her only friend the voice that resided in her skull.

_I'll take your silence as a no._

Sonia sighed again, louder this time. Her parents heard her, both of them turning to look at her. She straightened up, pushed her shoulders back and let her face relax into a soft smile. Her mother raised a dark eyebrow. "I'm fine, Mother. Just tired." She turned to her father. "May I be excused?" Her father looked at her searchingly for a moment before he waved a hand dismissively.

Sonia stood and tried not to obviously rush out of the dining hall but as soon as the large doors closed behind her, she turned and sprinted towards her bedroom. The white walls of the hallways blurred past her, the paintings of older generations meaningless to her at the moment. She passed various of the staff who worked in the palace, saw them double take, quickly dodge to get out of her way, muttered under their breath. They didn't matter either. Sonia was leaving. And she'd be damned if she let herself care about what any of them had to say.

She reached her bedroom in record time, her breaths heaving out of her chest from having to run up all the age-old steps. Reaching under her canopy bed, she pulled out a bag, a dark colour, wide and heavy. Inside it was all the belongings she felt she couldn't live without: a dress, a few plain shirts and a couple pairs of jeans that she'd hidden from when she'd bought them on a whim. A book on magical creatures was nestled on the top and a sack filled with enough ravels and druddles to last her for at least a month. She could buy whatever she needed with them; accommodation, clothes, food.

Her plan was ready, now she just needed to enact it.

Quickly stripping out of her pale blue dress - the silk was too fine to take with her, it made her seem vunerable and she wanted to appear strong - and grabbing a long sleeved black shirt and inky breeches, Sonia hoisted her bag up on her shoulder and with one longing, last look around her bedroom, she left.

Quickly climbing down the multitude of stairs, she reached the bottom floor. The stables were just two more turns away, Sonia would enter, her favourite horse Pepper would already be prepared for her, and together they would leave, off on a wonderful adventure of their own. Going to turn one of the last corners, Sonia gasped and hastily retreated. Coming up the hallway was her mother and father, both immersed in a conversation with each other. Looking around the deserted hallway she was in, Sonia felt panic swell in her chest. If they saw the way she was dressed they would figure out exactly what she had planned and lock her up forever.

There was a broom closet to her right. Opening it, Sonia threw herself inside, almost getting her bag stuck in the door when she went to close it.

Her parents walked right past where Sonia was. She caught a part of their conversation through the slight cracks between the entryway and the door. "…It's for her own good that she doesn't know, if she did…"

Sonia frowned. That was her mother. Who was the 'she' she was referring to? She mulled it over in her mind. Her aunt? Were they hiding something from Aunt Eliza? And if so, what?

Sonia would've stood there for longer but she remembered what she had set out to do. It was only a matter of time before someone came to check up on her and found her bedroom empty, the desk mostly cleared.

Opening the door a crack, Sonia peered out and saw the hallway was empty once again. She crept out and dashed towards the stables. When she arrived, she saw Pepper, standing tall and proud, a brown saddle hoisted on his back. He huffed happily when he caught sight of her. Smiling gently, she steered him out of the stable and into the darkness outside, all while tying her bag onto his side.

Pulling herself up onto the saddle, Sonia looked back at the castle. She hoped her parents would understand. This was something she had to do. Steeling her resolve, Sonia urged Pepper into a canter and made right for the open gates that would lead her to the rest of the world.

 

//

 

Sayaka supposed her day couldn't get worse. Her sister had disappeared on her hours ago, there was a shell that seemed permanently caught in her hair, no matter how much she tugged at it, it just wouldn't come loose, and earlier she had accidentally nicked the back of her hand on a sharp piece of glass whilst she was looking for some clams. 

But, her luck was turning. Heading her way was a boat. A large boat. A boat that probably contained a number of men, all of them ripe for plucking. Sayaka allowed herself a small victory as she sank into the water and swam towards a flat rock that jutted just so out of the sea. Resting herself upon it, she turned to check the progress of the vessel. It was close enough for her to begin.

Singing softly, Sayaka tilted her head towards the sky, relaxing her muscles to appear non-assuming, to appear dainty and desirable.

She could hear the water hitting the edges of the boat. She sang louder.

Nothing happened until the boat was right in her peripheral vision. She lolled her head to face it, expecting a multitude of men, all scrambling over the edge just to reach her, only to plunge into the depths of the sea, their fate one of drowning or bleeding to death from the sharp rocks that were hidden, under the water, just in front of her.

Except there was only one man. A man with red hair. And an infuriating smirk. Staring right at her.

Her song screeched to a halt and for a couple of seconds there was no noise except for the waves crashing on the side of his vessel. Then he started speaking. "I'm sorry, gorgeous, I didn't mean to interrupt your pretty song. You can continue it, if you'd like?"

She just stared at him, mind racing to try and figure out why he wasn't dead already. Her eyes caught on something, a blue pendant around his neck, it looked almost like a crystal. He followed her look. "Oh, this? This was my grandmother's. She enchanted it y'see." He leaned over the side of his ship, closer to her, as though they were two friends sharing a secret. "It protects me from sirens."

She felt her nostrils flare in anger. His grin widened and he laughed, leaning even more over the edge.

It happened all at once. One second, he was laughing, one hand supporting himself on the banister, the other covering his mouth. The next, he had tumbled right over, did a flip and landed into the water with a splash.

He struggled for a while, thrashing with both his arms, screaming something about how he can't swim. Sayaka simply watched, astounded by the constant stupidity of mankind.

Eventually he stopped moving, and through the water she could see his face, beads of air stuck to his skin, his hair a riot that curled in the sea. She thought that was it and sat back, content to just watch the sun set at the end of the day, and try to just forget all about that man despite how he was the first human she'd ever met to actually talk to her, even if she hadn't said anything back.

 _Will I ever regret it?_  she thought. _Never talking to him. Not asking him any questions about the human world; what it was like to have feet, to walk, to actually be dry sometimes._

 _Well, there's no going back now_. Sayaka lay back, the stone she was lying on cold against her wet skin. Her sister would return at one point and she would tell her about the man, but she'd turn it into a warning. To show her just how stupid humans could be.

It was a plan. Sayaka smiled to herself, happy at the moment.

"What the fuck."

She shot up and dived into the sea on reflex. She looked around her. Nothing. Her heart was racing in her chest. Had she just imagined it? Or had it came from her rock?

Poking her head out of the water slightly, Sayaka saw him. Tall. Red hair. His face was pale and shocked. He slowly turned towards her, and she saw that his eyes were a light blue colour. "Am I dead?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Her day just got worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly longer chapter this time! i'm probably gonna run out of juice soon but before then i'll try to write as much as possible! well, as always, my tumblr is bravemccalll if your have any questions, please leave a kudos or, even better, a comment.   
> hope you enjoy the rest of the story :D  
> \- nic


	3. Tremors of the Heart

"What do you want me to say? I'm fine, alright? Just leave it alone."

Hajime frowned at Mahiru. "Your best friend just died, Mahiru. You're allowed to not be ok for a while. A _long_ while."

Mahiru shook her head, still not looking at him, still trying to pull her boots on. "I can't miss any more shifts this week. We barely managed to afford our month's rent last time and that when all of us were working."

Hajime sighed, reaching one hand up to scrub at his face. He felt tired; he felt beyond tired. Lethargy seemed to reside in his bones, making all of his movements more exhausting than they should be. He couldn't remember the last time he slept well. He didn't say anything but he knew that Nagito had been staying away in a conscious decision to try and dispel any luck, good or bad. Hajime couldn't help but feel grateful even if his absence felt like a hole in his chest.

He crossed his arms, staring resolutely at the ground. The wooden flooring of their apartment was getting worn; there were faded scratches on it from that time Kazuichi thought it would be funny to bring home a werebunny. He ran his foot over it absently. "I'll get my brother to pay for this month's rent. I'll send him a letter later today and-"

Suddenly Mahiru was there, her arms wrapped around him, her face pressed against his shoulder. "Oh Hajime," she said, her voice muffled from the fabric of his shirt, his name a vibration that seemed etched into his skin. Hajime hugged her back, resting his cheek on the crown of her head. He felt her exhale shakily, her rib cage stuttering beneath his hands. "No, you don't need to do that. We'll work it out."

Hajime chuckled half-heartedly. "That's my line," he said.

Mahiru laughed, the sound sad and almost pathetic, nothing but a warm breath that he felt from their close proximity. With a final squeeze around her frame, Hajime leaned back and peered down at her. Her hair was dull and flat, hanging loosely around her face, her eyes were lifeless and wet, the skin beneath them sallow and dark. She looked like she'd slept even less than him. With a small smile, Hajime rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Go back to bed, ok? I'm sure me and Kaz can keep us afloat for now, yeah?"

Mahiru didn't look convinced but nodded slowly, stepping away from him and heading back to her bedroom. Hajime watched her go before he turned and grabbed her abandoned shoes, placing them back on their shoe rack that sat by the front door before leaving his home; the shoe rack being the only thing in their shared apartment that resembled any semblance of maturity. Mahiru had actually bought it when they had first gotten the place. "Can't we just pretend our lives are together?" She'd asked, rolling her eyes at how Hajime and Kazuichi had simply looked at her in disbelief. Once Kazuichi, in a state of undress after a long period of not sleeping, had lovingly referred to it as a part of the family. Hajime stared at it for a moment before grabbing his coat from the back of their couch and headed out of the door.

Their apartment was one of the few in Harrison's Apartment Complex. The entire building was only a few floors tall due to most of the residents in May having their own houses to live in. Most of the people who lived in one of the apartments were people who had moved to May but didn't actually have enough money to buy anything permanent.

Mahiru and Hajime had both come from different places, whereas Kazuichi had lived in May his entire life. Hajime had come from a big city, Camponen, where everything was loud and too much. His brother's wealth had made everything worse, he was viewed as the more successful brother whereas Hajime was scorned, looked down upon. Mahiru's situation was different; she'd come from a village, Fresle it was called, that was even smaller than May where the only thing that had ever happened was a fire that occurred ten years prior and had killed a woman and a young girl. They'd both come to May and now all three of them lived together in their small apartment near the middle of the village, only a couple of streets away from the large library that was closed that day. Hajime frowned it as he passed it. The place was always open, despite it only being run by three people to his knowledge, a small boy with a bright smile and two girls who were twins in spite of their mass differences in personality.

Shaking his head, Hajime kept walking. He was going to drop in to visit Kazuichi before heading to work himself. Kazuichi worked at the village's garage where he was meant to fix up people's carriages but mostly got visits from people wondering why their toaster wasn't working. When Hajime arrived at the garage, he saw that Kazuichi was alone, sitting in his makeshift office, fiddling with various machine parts. Hajime entered the building and knocked lightly on the office's window, startling his friend. The reason that Kazuichi even had an office was that he was kind of the boss of the small garage due to being the only worker there besides the loud girl with wild blonde hair that had a foul mouth and only breezed through once in a blue moon. 'She's ruined blondes for me, bro,' he had told Hajime once, his expression glum.

Kazuichi stepped out and joined Hajime. "How is she?" he asked.

Hajime shook his head. "She tried to get to work today but I managed to talk her out of it."

Kazuichi leaned back against the wall, his head turned up towards the ceiling. "Do you think if I dyed my hair it would cheer her up?"

Hajime let out a surprised laugh. "If anything I think it would make her angry." Hajime smiled. "Is this you just trying to find an excuse to dye your hair?" Kaz looked away which just answered Hajime's question. He felt his smile stretch wider until he was grinning. "Well, I've got to get to work so -"

"Have you seen Yasuhiro?"

Hajime blinked. "No?" he answered after a pause. "Why?"

"I just-" Kazuichi broke off and glanced back at his office. "I was going to book myself in for a reading and -"

"You were going to get a reading?" Hajime interrupted, his expression incredulous. "Why would you ever-?"

"Not important right now!" Kazuichi squeaked before clearing his throat and continuing. "Well, anyway, Yasuhiro wasn't at his shop. Don't you think that's weird?"

Hajime frowned. "Maybe." It was odd considering the fact that Yasuhiro was almost never off, and coupled with the fact that the library was also closed, it was certainly something to look into. He made a note to tell Mahiru about it, perhaps a good mystery would be the perfect distraction for her. He took a step backwards away from Kazuichi and gestured a hand behind him. "Well, I've got to go."

Kazuichi nodded, already turning back towards his office. "See you later, dude."

"Later," Hajime echoed before turning to go to work.

The journey to the small building he worked at was lonely and desolate. The pain in his leg had faded, all of his bruises memories. He was struck with the feeling of dread, the emotion taking physical and seeming to run up the length of his spine, tensing his muscles and making his eyes dart around the streets he walked.

Hajime had only been working at the small investigations office in May for a few months but in that short time, he had become aware of two things. One: Kyouko Kirigiri, the woman who was in charge of actually investigating whereas Hajime mostly filed the papers, was never late. And two: Mondo Oowada, Hajime's coworker who never actually worked, was always late. So when Hajime opened the dark door with the golden plaque with DETECTIVE'S ADMINISTRATION inscribed on it and saw Mondo sat at his desk while Kyouko's lay empty, the dread he had been feeling manifested until it sat heavy in his stomach.

"Where's Kyouko?" He asked Mondo after a few moments of simply staring at the empty desk. Her mug was sat on top of it, the way she had left it yesterday. Usually, she cleaned up after herself but when she got incredibly involved in a case she would start to leave little reminders of herself everywhere.

Mondo shrugged, his eyes not looking away from the document in front of him that he was blatantly pretending to read. "Maybe she's sick or somethin'."

Hajime found that hard to believe. Once, Hajime had seen Kyouko, loaded up with a virus that left her shivering at one moment and then over-heated the next, drag herself into her chair just to continue her work. He worried at his lip with his teeth, a habit he had definitely picked up from Kazuichi. "Perhaps," he murmured to himself and sat heavily in his chair. He grabbed a spare sheet of paper and a pen.

DEAR IZURU...

 

//

 

Kyouko was struck with the queer feeling of loneliness.

The fact of the matter remained that she had been alone quite a few times in her life but she had always persevered and carried on. But now, the feeling hit her in the ribs, leaving her cold. She blinked down at her gloved hands. She flexed her fingers, watching the leather stretch over the fine bones underneath. The gloves were a gift from Byakuya. Before, her gloves had been functional but not particularly attractive. Byakuya had sneered at them for over a year until one day, Kyouko had woken up to a box on her front step. The gloves had been nestled inside of it along with a note. _Try to not look like a commoner, it's unbecoming of you_. The box along with the note was underneath her bed, next to the brown boots that Makoto had bought her for her birthday.

Staring down at her gloves, Kyouko wondered why it was now that she was feeling lonely. Sure, she was actually alone, perched on the edge of a table in the Woodgrove Library, waiting for Makoto, Byakuya, and Yasuhiro to return, but that didn't explain why she felt so empty. There had been times when she had felt suffocated by the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to choke her when she had wandered the forest near her old home, knowing she could never return, never see her father again, her friends, not until she was better. But even then, she hadn't felt like this.

Kyouko reached up a hand and rubbed at her left collarbone through her dark shirt, just above her tattoo. She closed her eyes and hummed under her breath. Everything around her disappeared, any physical object lost its permanence until there was only her. She felt her heart rate calm, her breath slow. When she opened her eyes again, all she saw was her aura, pale and violet, curling around her limbs like smoke.

She looked over, honing her mind, searching for them. She found Makoto. He wasn't far, perhaps only a few streets away, and getting closer. He was bright against the black that was the world, a burst of light that seemed almost solid at times as it shone. Byakuya was next to him, his aura more subdued, a fair golden that flickered, seeming more like Kyouko's in comparison to Makoto's. Yasuhiro was with them, Kyouko could see. His ambiance was faintly green and appeared like a cloud around him. It grew brighter as Kyouko focused in on it, as though he knew she was watching.

Kyouko closed her eyes again and when she opened them again, the interior of the library had returned. The ache of loneliness had faded until all that remained was the memory of it. She rolled her shoulders to try and relieve the tension that sat in them. The spell to see auras was a small one but it had been a while since she had cast anything at all.

As Kyouko was debating whether or not she should attempt another spell to loosen up her muscles for what was about to occur, Makoto and the others came in through the large double doors. Makoto smiled at the sight of her and Kyouko couldn't help the twitch of her lips in return. He and Yasuhiro walked to the centre of the room and started to set up for the ritual whilst Byakuya walked towards where Kyouko was sitting. He leaned against the edge of the table and crossed his arms nonchalantly. "Tastes like magic in here," he commented.

Kyouko glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. "Just checking where you were. You were gone for quite a while."

Byakuya gave her a look that told her that he didn't believe her but he took the bait anyway. "Yes, well, it took Yasuhiro longer than expected to find his real glass ball. Apparently, he uses a fake one for all of his readings." He raised an eyebrow, his pale eyes seeming to shine behind his glasses.

Kyouko almost snorted. "It's not fake, it's just less potent with magic."

Byakuya nodded, seeming lost in thought as he seemed to puzzle over this. It was nice talking about this with Byakuya. He always wanted to know more about magic and witchcraft and everything supernatural. It felt clinical at times but Kyouko felt safe talking with him like this. This she was used to. Telling him straightforward facts felt safe, manageable. Of course, it was a double-edged sword; Kyouko sometimes felt that one day Byakuya would do something incredibly stupid. But perhaps that was just her being paranoid.

"How are some glass balls more 'potent with magic' than others?" Byakuya asked, stepping away from the table and standing so that he was facing her.

Kyouko almost smiled. _Safe_ , she thought and started explaining. "Technically, I could perform this spell on any reflective surface, like a glass window in a shop. But it's said that certain glass balls were blessed by a witch long ago, so therefore they are more powerful and will yield better results."

"What was the witch called?" said Byakuya, leaning in closer. This close Kyouko could see the light freckles that were dotted on his nose.

"Does it matter?" she answered, her voice hushed. "All of our names die in the end, do they not?"

"Are you ready, Kiyo?"

Byakuya leaned back, his face becoming passive once more. Kyouko looked around him and saw Yasuhiro and Makoto standing by a table in the middle of the room with a white cloth covering it, a glass ball sat atop it. She nodded and slid off the table, brushing past Byakuya and walking towards the glass ball. "I thought I told you not to call me 'Kiyo' anymore," she said as she passed Yasuhiro.

She could almost hear his grin behind her as she knelt and placed her hands around the glass. "But it's so suiting don't you think? Naegs agrees with me, don't you?"

"Well, that's just-"

"Be quiet," said Byakuya. Kyouko almost laughed but ignored the feeling and rather concentrated on the glass in front of her. She closed her eyes, murmuring under her breath. The glass slowly began to warm beneath her palms. She could distantly hear a gasp of surprise but couldn't focus on that.

There was a light tingling at the soles of her feet that began to move until it consumed all of her legs. Then the feeling was numbness and she couldn't feel her lower half. Both the tingling and then the following numbness spread until all Kyouko was was her thoughts.

Then all at once with the feeling of dropping from a height, Kyouko felt all of her body return to her. When she opened her eyes she wasn't in the Woodgrove Library but rather somewhere in a forest. The setting was all too familiar that panic almost seized her before she rationalized what was happening.

There was a path beneath her feet (she never had that), the trees were covered in moss and the leaves were a light green (most of the trees that had surrounded her had dark green leaves). Voices sounded out ahead of her, a low murmur through the foliage. Kyouko followed it and two people appeared in front of her. One was a boy, with blonde hair and a white shirt that was spotted with blood. A gun was tucked in the back of his trousers. The other was a woman. She was taller, with grey hair and a bright blue costume, something that looked like it belonged in a circus. Her hands were stained red.

"-and my sister should be there, and she'll help me," the boy was saying.

"Help with what?" the woman asked.

"You," he said, as though that was obvious.

There was a pause for a couple of moments. They were walking quite fast, enough so that Kyouko had to lightly jog to keep up with them.

"Your sister is an exorcist?" the woman said.

He snorted. "Nah, but she'll help me look through some books. She's faster at reading anyway."

Kyouko thought she caught a glimpse of a smile from the woman but it was gone before she could look more closely. Deciding that the conversation was done, she shut her eyes and hummed. When she opened her eyes again she jumped in surprise. She tried to catch a glimpse of the boy's aura but only saw a hint of blood-orange before it disappeared. Unlike before, everything surrounding her wasn't black, it was a light grey and this allowed her to see the aura of the woman. Pitch black, solid, and coming straight for her. The woman said something, her voice not like it was before, rather deep and ancient, and before Kyouko could process that she shouldn't be able to hear any noises when she was seeing auras and demon, that is a demon -

-she woke up.

A gasp ripped through her throat and her head lifted from the table to gaze around her frantically. There was hands gripping her arms and her back protested, pain flaring up. She'd obviously been hunched over and now she was in desperate need of a massage. She made a note to ask Byakuya to send one of his best masseuses at a later date.

"Kyouko, open your eyes. Kyouko!"

She did as the voice said and was blinded by a bright light that flooded her senses. In the back of her mind, she realised that she hadn't finished the aura spell but she felt so tired and her arms were limp at her sides and her knees were throbbing from where she was leaning on them.

She fell forward, her head landing on something solid and felt the hands on her arms slide over her biceps until they were firm on her back. She felt a rumble underneath her cheek that might've been her name again, but she ignored it and shut her eyes, humming to break the ambiance spell. When she opened her eyes again the first thing she saw was the cream colour of Makoto's cardigan, the material soft against her skin wherever she touched it. "Kyouko? Are you alright?" That was Makoto's voice. He sounded worried and Kyouko felt immediately guilty for making him feel that way.

She nodded. "I'm fine," she managed to say. She pushed herself up and off of Makoto and after a moment, Makoto retracted his hands from her back and settled them on her forearms, helping her to rise to her feet. She smiled at him gratefully and he smiled back. She turned and saw Byakuya and Yasuhiro standing close by, Byakuya frowning at her whereas Yasuhiro looked upset. She cleared her throat. "Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu has summoned a demon. He's possibly contracted to it."

Yasuhiro's mouth made an 'o' shape and he murmured under his breath, "Iactus." Byakuya's expression didn't change much except from his brows furrowing further. He opened his mouth to say something but Kyouko spoke before he could say anything. "I don't think he has any ill intent, Byakuya. It appeared as though he wanted to be rid of the demon."

"Then why is it there in the first place?" Byakuya demanded.

Kyouko could only shake her head, one hand reaching up to press against her forehead where a headache was starting to stir. "Byakuya, leave it," said Makoto, one hand also reaching up along with her's but he simply brushed some of her hair that was stuck to her face with sweat.

"I was just-"

"Leave it," Makoto repeated. Byakuya's mouth snapped shut and he looked away, indignantly. He turned back slightly, his eyes seeking out Kyouko's. He looked ready to say something else, whether it was an apology or another question to continue his interrogation, Kyouko would never know as suddenly a tremor shook the ground beneath them. The table beside Kyouko began to shake, the glass ball on it rolling towards the edge. With one of Makoto's hands still clutching her forearm, Kyouko dragged him along with her as she dove for the ball. She grabbed it just before it could fall and turned towards Makoto just in time to see him yank up the white cloth and pull her underneath the table with him.

Hunched underneath the table, Kyouko felt as though her bones were rattling inside her skin. She felt Makoto's hand slide down her arm until it gripped her's and give it a squeeze. "Byakuya, Yasuhiro! Are you alright?" he shouted over the noise. All the books in the library were shaking in their shelves and she could hear the slam they made when the shook right out of their place.

"Yeah, we're under a table. We'll be alright," came Yasuhiro's voice. Kyouko saw how Makoto's body seemed to sag in relief. She wondered, dimly, how big his heart must be, to care that much.

She brushed that thought aside and pressed a hand to the floor beneath her. The vibrations were wrong, unnatural. This wasn't like an earthquake. This was purposeful. Someone had done this. This was dark magic.

As soon as Kyouko had come to that conclusion, the shaking stopped altogether. The silence after seemed deafening after what had been such a loud occurrence. Glancing at Makoto and saw him looking back at her, she crawled out from under the table.

All around her was chaos. Most of the books had fallen from their shelves and lay scattered around the room, one window was broken - the glass lay shattered beneath it - multiple chairs had been knocked over.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kyouko saw Byakuya, Yasuhiro and Makoto also climb out and join her in looking around the room. She turned to Makoto, who was looking around sadly. "This is going to take forever to clean up," he said. And Kyouko laughed.

 

//

 

"What the hell are you doing?" Fuyuhiko demanded.

"There was a witch here," she said, looking around at the trees around them. They were only roughly a mile away from his house and now was when the demon decided to act up. Fuyuhiko could have screamed at the sky in frustration but decided he was too tired. He looked at the demon. One moment she had been fine and then the next she'd turned suddenly and transformed right before him. Looking at her, he saw that she was turning back into something resembling a human but before… it had been monstrous. Her skin had turned all black, all of the skin around her eyes had been red. She hadn't been shaped like a human either, she'd gotten taller for a second, her torso lengthening, her arms stretching out at something behind him. But there was nothing there. When he opened his mouth to tell her this, he tasted it. The sharp tang of magic. The taste seemed to run along the length of his tongue and hit the back of his throat, almost making him gag.

He choked the feeling of discomfort that started rising up. A witch had definitely been here then. But why? What business did a witch have with him? He opened his mouth again, not sure what exactly sure what he was going to say yet when he was caught off guard by a sudden tremor that ran through the ground beneath his feet. It shook for a couple of moments and almost knocked him off balance before it stopped. He almost fell backwards when the demon's hand shot out and caught his wrist, yanking him upright.

When the shaking stopped, Fuyuhiko quickly yanked his arm back and put some space between them. Her skin had been surprisingly warm and soft but he distracted himself with something else. "What the hell was that?"

The demon simply looked down at the ground, frowning. "I-I don't know. It felt unnatural. Like magic."

"Do you think it was that witch that did it? The one you saw?" he added.

She simply looked at him, almost helplessly. "I don't know," she repeated.

Fuyuhiko looked up the path they'd been walking. His sister was up there somewhere. In his house with all his books that would explain everything. The sooner he got there, the better. "Come on," he said and broke out into a sprint. He couldn't hear her running but he knew she was following, sure as a heartbeat.

A thought flashed through his mind, almost making him stumble over a stray branch. He hadn't thought about it before but the possibility that his sister wouldn't be there, that she could be hurt, was certainly possible. He pushed himself harder. The sooner he got there the better. He repeated this like a mantra in his mind until he could recite it in his sleep. Perhaps, if he said it enough, it would be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ughhhhhhhhhhhhh  
> this chapter took so long, i'm sorry :( i have so many exams coming up but i also have a holiday soon so i'll be able to work on the next chapter then  
> hmu on tumblr at bravemccalll and talk to me pls im lonely :((((((  
> also pls comment or give kudos, they keep me motivated expecially during this time where it will be so easy for me to simply drop this fic even if i don’t want to  
> until next time, byyyyyyyyee


	4. An Anchor in the Tide

The front door was gone. Well, that wasn't true. The front door was there but it was lying flat inside the house, a hole blasted through the middle of the wood.

Fuyuhiko stood frozen, staring at it in shock for a couple of moments before he charged into the house, leaping over the ruined door and screaming his sister's name.

He checked the living room first but it was eerily quiet. Everything was where it was the last time he had been there: a pale blue blanket thrown haphazardly over the back of the leather couch, the curtains pushed back to let the early afternoon sunlight in, the large display case filled with their good china was still missing most of its plates from when Fuyuhiko had thrown them at a wall in a rage not a year ago.

Next was the kitchen. A half-eaten plate of some kind of bright salad had been abandoned on the counter. The fireplace had no fire burning in it but the black ash was smoking slightly.

Upstairs, Fuyuhiko checked his own bedroom and found it to be empty - his bed was made and all of his old books lay in large piles around his dark wardrobe. He opened the door to his father's bedroom. A white shirt was hanging up, freshly pressed and ready to be worn. A book was laid out on his nightstand. The title was in Latin but he saw that it was about demons. He glanced around the room once more. He could feel his father's eyes on him, just like they were when he was alive - heavy, angry. He closed the door.

At last, his sister's room. "Natsumi?" he called out. He pushed open the door. The room was so achingly familiar that he believed for a second that she was going to be there. That she would look up from her book and glare at him. Don't you know how to knock? She'd say and Fuyuhiko would grin and say something equally as snarky in return.

But the room was empty.

Fuyuhiko reached a shaky hand out and brushed it over the stuffed teddy she kept on her pink sheets. He had always made fun of her for it, to her great annoyance but he was struck with the thought that he might never be able to do that ever again. His chest ached and he wondered if he was a terrible person. His father had been murdered and he was travelling with his murderer without a care in the world and this was his punishment. Losing the last of his family, the only one he had left to care about.

He heard footsteps behind him and he looked up, hope seizing his lungs but he deflated when he saw it was only the demon. She gazed around the room. "Your sister is not here," she observed.

"Get out."

She frowned, a slight line set between her light brows. "I do not think that you should be alone right now -"

"I said, get the fuck out!" Fuyuhiko snapped, his fists clenching at his sides. The demon blinked at him before lowering her head and leaving the room. Fuyuhiko slumped to the ground, leaning against his sister's bed. He reached up and picked up the bear. It's black eyes stared up at him, blankly. She had won it in a fair, he remembered. He had won it for her. "Oh, sis. Where have you gone?" The bear didn't have any answers for him. Fuyuhiko pressed his face into its fur and let himself cry for the first time in years.

 

//

 

"Don't you ever like, get bored of this whole thing?"

Sayaka sat on her rock, her spine straight and firm. Her muscles had started protesting at being so tense for so long but she was nothing if not determined so she ignored the pain.

"Seriously. You've been staring dramatically into the distance for at least a billion hours now, gorgeous. I'm bored."

"I don’t care," Sayaka snapped before she could stop herself. She felt her mouth tighten when she turned to see him grinning at her triumphantly.

This had been going on for the past three days. The sailor who had fallen overboard and drowned had become a ghost and had made it his un-dead wish to haunt her for the rest of eternity. She wasn't having a good time. He was.

His name, that he dropped into conversation within his first few hours of his ghostly life - a life that he had taken to quite well, all considering - was Leon Kuwata. His favourite colour was blue - "Like your hair," he'd grinned - and his grandmother had played baseball in Flonia.

("That's impossible," she had said before she could stop herself. "Flonia is an icy plane. No human could survive there long enough to do anything let alone play bass-ball."

"Guess my grandmother was just a badass then," he'd smirked. "And it's baseball. You pronounce the 'a'. Kinda.")

"So, what's the deal with your sister?"

Sayaka felt her spine stiffen even further. She turned to the horizon again and resolved to ignore him for the foreseeable future.

"I prefer her to you, so when is she getting back?" Sayaka didn't answer. "Cause, I mean, she's so fun and you're…..not." Sayaka gritted her teeth. "I mean you are pretty to look at but other than that? You're kind of a _huge_ buzzkill, babe." She was sure she wouldn't have any teeth after this, which was a shame. She had just sharpened her fangs the other night. "I wish she could see me. That would be funner."

"'Funner' isn't a word," she said. He laughed again from behind her and she wanted to bash her skull against the rock beneath her. He was always doing that. She would promise herself that she wouldn't speak to him ever again and then he would say something and words would be tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. It was incredibly frustrating.

Just where the sky meets the sea, there was a flicker of movement in the water. Sayaka stared at it. The movement got closer until it was directly beneath her. She waited. Leon seemed to notice as well as he had went quiet and had perched himself next to her, his leg pressed against the side of her tail. She told herself that she couldn't actually feel the rough surface of his trousers because that was impossible. He wasn't actually a physical being. He was - he was a ghost.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a head broke the surface of the water with a shout. Leon let out a cheer as Ibuki grinned at her sister. "Hellooooo," she trilled, reaching out scaled arms to lean on the rock.

"Where have you been?" Sayaka asked.

"Nothing," Ibuki said at the same time Leon said, "She was canoodling with some guy."

Sayaka jerked her head over to Leon. "She was what?"

"Wait, is that ghost dude still here?"

Sayaka ignored her. "You were talking to the humans, again?!"

Ibuki winced. "Listen, sis -"

"Don't you 'sis' me!"

"I'm just trying to explain -"

"I have told you a million times that we do not make friends with humans -"

"You don't even give them a chance -!"

Leon having heard enough, spread his arms out to try and placate both of the girls but before he could start, his arm hit Sayaka's back.

With an undignified yelp, Sayaka pitched forward into the sea and resurfaced with a gasp. "What -" she started. Leon stared down at her in shock.

"Wait, did that ghost guy just shove you?"

Sayaka shook her head. "That's not -" possible. He was a ghost, he couldn't touch her, he wasn't a physical being.

Leon blinked slowly. Then grinned. "Well, gorgeous, I guess this means we can finally have fun. _Together._ "

Sayaka splashed water at him.

 

//

 

Fuyuhiko and the demon had been walking in silence before she started speaking again. "Have I done something wrong?"

Fuyuhiko scowled at the ground beneath him. "You did murder my father and make me an orphan."

The demon frowned, one hand reaching up to adjust the duffel bag she had slung over her shoulder. "You didn't seem to mind up until we reached your home."

"Yeah, well, it hadn't sank in yet."

She nodded and the quiet took over once more. Fuyuhiko glanced over at her to see her staring at the sun. He managed to find some clothes that fit her so she wouldn't have to wear that ridiculously loud leotard. She looked better in a pair of black jeans and chunky black boots with a plain white t-shirt. Fuyuhiko shook his head and shoved those thoughts to the back of his head. It didn't matter what she wore and if she looked good wearing it. They were heading towards a small village somewhere up north called May where a powerful witch was rumoured to be living. Fuyuhiko thought she would have an idea on how to banish demons; his father's book hadn't said anything about it. Possibly because no-one was dumb enough to find themselves caught in contract in the first place, he thought, bitterly.

"You do not like your father."

Fuyuhiko's head shot up and he glared at her. "Excuse me?"

The demon simply stared back at him. "I said that you do not like your father. That's why you didn't care that I killed him."

"He's still my father! I have the right to be angry," Fuyuhiko snapped.

The demon nodded and turned back so she was facing forward once more. "Of course you do. But you aren't. You're angry because your sister is missing and you're taking that anger out on the nearest thing to you. Me. You didn't care for your father and you don't now."

Fuyuhiko stared at her for a second, a voice in the back of his mind murmuring that she was right, that his father certainly didn't have a place in his heart and that he didn't miss him, not at all. Another voice worried that she somehow managed to get a read on him so easily, despite the defences he had tried to put up. He looked away.

"That's not - it isn't -"

"Did he hurt you?" the demon asked. Fuyuhiko blinked. "When he hit you at my alter, he didn't flinch. It seemed…." she floundered for a second. "…practised."

He bit his lip and thought about what he was going to say. "My father," he started, before stopping. "The Kuzuryuu Clan has dedicated themselves to wiping out magical creatures for centuries. My father, his father, his father before him. Each of them took the title of leader and led hundreds of men to kill every magical creature they could find. My father took to it like it was all he ever wanted. Nothing could make him happier than when he was ripping the heart out of some innocent being. He had always hated me because I didn't love it like he did. So, yes, you're right. I don’t like him. I hate him. He was the worst person on this side of the planet and I'm glad you killed him." Fuyuhiko inhaled and felt a weight he didn’t know was there lift away from his shoulders. He turned his head away from her, a hand reaching up to scrub away any tears that had managed to escape.

There was silence between them again as Fuyuhiko tried to get a firm grip on his emotions again. He didn't know what was wrong with him. It had been so long since he'd cried but today he couldn't manage to stop. It was ridiculous.

"I wish I could bring him back to life just so I could kill him again," the demon said, fiercely.

Fuyuhiko looked her in shock for a moment before he laughed wetly. "I'd love to see that," he agreed. The demon smiled at him softly and he was smiling back before he could stop himself. He shook his head to clear it. "Anyway, I was thinking that you need a name."

She quirked her head, silver hair brushing against her shoulder. "A name," she repeated, as though she wasn't sure what the word meant.

"Yeah, a name. Like how mine is Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu." She nodded to show she understood. "Do you have a name?" She shook her head. "Well…." He mulled it over. "I read a story when I was younger. It was about this female warrior who took on entire armies and won. Her name was Peko. Do you want to be called Peko?"

"Peko," she said, her eyes closing. She nodded and opened her eyes again. She smiled at him. "My name is Peko."

Fuyuhiko snorted. "Yeah, your name is Peko."

"Thank you."

Fuyuhiko looked at her in shock but she had returned her gaze back to the horizon. He shrugged, adjusting his bag, looking at the ground beneath him. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

She pointed a finger. "Look."

Ahead of them was a sign. WELCOME TO MAY. Fuyuhiko set his shoulders in a straight line. "Let's go," he said to Peko and together they entered the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter, I'm sorry :(((((((( i just wanted to get a chapter out to let you know that i haven't abandoned this fic, im just garbage  
> anyway, i hope you enjoy the rest of the story and as always, comments are very much appreciated. hmu on my tumblr @bravemccalll to talk shit to me  
> until next time!  
> \- nic


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